


A Series of Unrelated Events: Gift Fics Galore!

by Tsubasa Kurono (kurotsuba)



Series: A Snitch in Time: Harry Potter and a Series of Unrelated Events [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Avada Kedavra, Awkward Kissing, Chocolate, Christmas Fluff, Colors, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Cruciatus, Declarations Of Love, Disturbing Themes, Dreams and Nightmares, Experimental Style, F/M, Flashbacks, Floo Network, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Gift Fic, Horror, Injury Recovery, Insanity, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Poetry, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Prose Poem, Psychological Horror, Romantic Fluff, Secret Santa, St Mungo's Hospital, Sugar Quills, Surreal, The Burrow (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurotsuba/pseuds/Tsubasa%20Kurono
Summary: A collection of gift fics based on J. K. Rowling's Wizarding World.[IRREGULAR]Latest:"Boxception" - experimental oneshot feat. Alice Longbottom having a mental breakdown





	1. Winter in the Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron breaks his leg—literally, no pun intended—and he has to watch the Burrow all alone while the rest of the Weasleys are out for Christmas shopping. That is, until an unexpected guest shows up…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HPFC Secret Santa gift fic for Dramione Forever (FF.net).**

Six months. Six months had gone by since the Battle of Hogwarts… and the first kiss Ron Weasley had shared with Hermione Granger.

Even with the euphoric victory over Voldemort and his Death Eaters, there was still so much more to do for the wizarding communities across Europe to recover from the aftermath of the war. Beneath the hard-earned peace, the tragic losses and the deaths of their loved ones would continue to haunt them all for the rest of their lives.

Ron shook his head. What was wrong with him, getting all sentimental about something that should be left behind him now? This would be his first Christmas of the new era.

And the first time he could spend the holiday with the girl he loved.

…Until he glanced down at his bandaged leg, and frustration welled up inside him once more. It was a stupid accident, really—the kind that only toddlers would make trotting through the crunchy, snowy grounds with their short legs, before falling, face-down, into the freezing ice… Except that Ron tumbled down an angled slope before breaking his leg against the trunk of a tree to stop the fall. Even worse when his sister, Ginny, and her boyfriend, the Harry Potter, dissolved into howling laughter at the comical incident.

To cut the long story short, Ron was left behind at the Burrow to watch the house alone and nurse his injured leg, while the rest of the Weasleys went out for Christmas shopping.

Ron could only let out a sigh as he scratched the bandaged leg. The young man was bored—something about the eerie silence in the usually noisy house didn't sit well with him. The dripping sound of the leaking tap in the kitchen, the ticking gears from the magical clock in the living room, and the occasional scuffles of the gnomes in the attic were all supposed to be everyday ambience to Ron, but he couldn't help fidgeting at the unnerving quietness.

How un-Gryffindor-like of him. The last thing he wanted was to give Harry and Hermione more reasons to laugh at his inferiority complex when compared to his best friends.

Regardless, Ron needed something— _anything_ —to dispel the rising nervousness before he truly lost his own mind. He dragged himself to the dining area with a mug of steaming-hot chocolate. A small sip on the drink was enough to stop his trembling frame as warmth filled up inside of him, but it couldn't pierce through the cold loneliness that tightened around his heart.

Ron leaned over the kitchen counter to peer out of the window. The sky was getting darker, and the sound of roaring wind was getting louder—a sign that a snowstorm was on its way. A long, tired sigh escaped his lips when finally moved away from the window and slumped into the nearest chair at the dining table.

_To think that watching an empty house is far more boring than trying to stay awake during a History of Magic class—_

A sudden rumbling noise from the living room made Ron almost fell off the chair in surprise. Wincing, he supported himself with a hand on the table as he tried to get up, the other hand pulling out his wand.

"W-Who's there?"

The rumbling noise turned into a deafening crash as a blast of green flame shot out of the fireplace, scorching the moth-eaten armchairs and painting the walls in black soot. A figure tumbled out of the cloud of dust, and Ron's eyes widened when he recognized who the person was.

"…Hermione? What… How…"

"Oh, hello Ron," his bushy-haired girlfriend greeted back, breathless as she choked a little at the smell of the burning couches before extinguishing the fire with a wave of her wand. "I'm sorry about this. Long story, but Merry Christmas to you."

"Christmas is still, like, couple of days away," Ron was still gaping at Hermione, not quite recovered from her unannounced appearance. "But, what the bloody hell's going on? Why are you here? You aren't supposed to come until Christmas Eve."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron's bandaged leg. "I heard you've injured your leg from Ginny… Are you alright now?"

"Healing, but itchy," Ron replied as he scratched the bandage for the umpteenth time. "But enough about me. Aren't you supposed to be, you know, at your parents'? Thought you'd want to spend more time with them, after you obliviated them and sent them away to Australia, and all…"

Though it wasn't his intention, Ron couldn't stop a hint of bitterness lacing his forced cheerful tone. _I love her, but I'm_ not _obsessed over her_ , he told himself firmly. _Why am I feeling jealous over nothing?_

The dissonance in his voice didn't go unnoticed to Hermione even as the witch was restoring the living room back to its original state with her wand. "As I expected," she sighed when she finally looked at Ron in the eye. "I was worried about you, so I used the Floo Network to get here as soon as I could—and seems like it's still unstable—but you're in an even worse state than I'd imagined."

Hermione helped Ron into one of the armchairs before she took her seat opposite of her injured boyfriend. "You need to have more faith in me, and more confidence in yourself."

 _Easy for you to say._ Ron shook his head at the thought. "I can't help it. Bet you had a laugh about the stupid fall that Ginny had told you in her letters." He glanced sideways, refusing to look at Hermione.

"Ron," Hermione sounded a little exasperated. "No one is perfect; we all make dumb mistakes in our life, and lots of them." She walked over to squeeze herself next to the grumpy redhead. "I'm not going to break up with you over something… trivial as this."

Ron continued to keep his gaze everywhere but at Hermione.

"Ron, please," Hermione huffed with a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Who do you take me for? I love you for who you are—not just the good qualities that you don't seem to notice or even admit yourself, but I also embrace your flaws. All of them come together to make the you today, the you here, now, right beside me."

Ron squirmed a little when Hermione leaned in and put her arms around his neck from the back. "Isn't it the same for you? I'm sure you didn't like me just for my good looks." A light chuckle reached his ears. "But I also want that to be part of the reason why you chose me over all the other girls out there, over Lavender Brown. Eventually, over your _sister-in-law_ too."

Ron shuddered at the last line. He knew that Hermione was talking about Fleur. 

"That's… not fair."

This time, Hermione let out a shout of laughter. "Life has never been fair to anyone. You know this better than I do."

Ron could feel Hermione's breath warm on his cheek, even hotter at the heat creeping up his neck when he realized what she was about to do—

Another boom roared from the fireplace once more, this time it was rest of the Weasley family (plus Harry), all covered in soot from head to toe. And they were all staring straight ahead.

Straight at Hermione, who was frozen with her lips on Ron's cheek.

Ginny was the first to break the awkward silence. "About time," she said, nonchalant as she grabbed Harry's hand to drag him towards the stairs. "Let's just move on and pretend that we didn't see that."

The rest of the Weasleys began to shuffle to the kitchen, though rather clumsily while trying to navigate through the narrow spaces between the armchairs armed with bags and boxes from the Christmas shopping. Not helping when they were throwing glances at the bashful pair, from teary delight from Arthur and Molly, to calculating sniggers from George.

Ron could feel his entire head on fire—not just at the embarrassment, but also his irritation at his sassy sister.

"Just watch me, Ginny," he snarked at the youngest Weasley.

Ginny spun around, only for her smirk to be wiped off her face when her eyes widened at what her brother was showing her. Even Harry was greatly amused, so much so that he eyebrows had pretty much disappeared into his bangs.

Ron had just kissed Hermione back, but this time full on her lips. The latter didn't expect this either, merely stood stunned, her eyes fixed on the freckled face that filled her entire vision before her.

"Ron!" Hermione staggered under Ron's weight when their faces finally broke apart. The pain on the redhead's face was more pressing than the shock from the surprise kiss. "Take it easy—your leg…"

Ginny had also rushed forward to help. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be mean to you. It's just… I just want you to be more honest with yourself. I'm happy the two of you are together—I'm glad to have Hermione to be a part of the family."

"There, you have it," Hermione said, finally allowing the kiss to sink into her as her cheeks colored. "We all love you the way you are. And I hope you can love yourself like how I… love you." Her voice trailed off at the last bit.

A wide grin broke out of Ron's sullen face for the first time today. He locked his eyes with Hermione, causing the girl to blush even harder.

_I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration:  
> Title is a pun on the classic, _Wind in the Willows_.


	2. Boxception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped between reality and dreams, suspended between agony and bliss… Welcome to the surreal world of Alice Longbottom, stuck in a St. Mungo's ward and losing her damned mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THC gift fic for Theoretical-Optimist (FF.net).**

_Alice Longbottom, trapped in a box_  
_Is she dead? Is she alive?_  
_The handle unwinds with every tick_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_A jack-in-the-box sitting on her palm_  
_The box is her mind_  
_And the jester is herself…_

_Or is it the other way round?_

* * *

I'm vaguely aware of my surroundings. Blinding white lights, whispering voices, the smell of sterilizers… They have all been a major part of my daily routine for as long as I can remember. Or I think I can remember. I don't know. Every time I try to dive into my past memory, everything merely feels like a blur to me—like a cyclone of colors.

Except that there is only two.

Black.  
Red.  
Black.  
More red.  
Black.  
And it stayed black.

My head hurts. I feel like it's going to burst into flames whenever I try to look into my past.

I always wonder if I'm constantly trapped in a limbo, neither dead nor alive, with disembodied chatters floating around me that I cannot connect to. Most of them call me 'Mrs. Longbottom', except for two faces—the only two I can distinguish from the sea of blanks around me.

One with a wrinkled face with sagging facial features and a soft jawline. Every part of her seems like they are rotting away with age; only the sharp glint in her eyes have stood up to the test of time. Mother, my mind says, but that word simply refuses to form on my lips.

The other is much younger, rounder, gentler. A stark contrast with the first. He is always looking at me with those sad, puppy eyes. Did Frank and I ever have a puppy before?

Frank?  
Frank…  
_Frank._

Who is Frank?

My head hurts again.  
And the pain won't go away.

* * *

_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_A jack-in-the-box_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Sitting on my palm_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_In a flash of red_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Exploding with delight_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Grinning with agony_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Writhing with pleasure_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Dark eyes boring into mine_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Everything went black_

* * *

The next day, I see the same old lady with her grandson again. The lady seems to have more feathers attached around her neck this time; her stuffed hat appears to be taller and more intimidating than before. The young boy, however, still has the same depressed look on his face.

I turn my head slowly and stare at the boy in the eye.

He smiles at me. A smile that is drenched in tears.

Is he smiling? Or is he crying?  
I don't understand.

He picks up my hand and presses something into my palm. Something that makes a crunching noise when I squeeze it harder. He brings my hand closer to my eyes. It's a candy.

Round, like his face.  
Red, like—

_—Crucio!_

* * *

_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Vision turning scarlet_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Skin burning like wildfire_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Scents of blood filling the air…_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_The devil is back!_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_In a flash of red_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Everything burns_

* * *

_Neville._

A week has passed, and the same pair has come to visit me at the same time, with the same look. Oh, I'm not talking about their clothes. That'd be disgusting.

Same facial expression. Same smile.  
The same smile that didn't reach the sorrow in their eyes.

_Neville._

A name keeps repeating itself at the back of my mind, growing louder and closer with each call. My chest tightens as the syllables hammered against my ears.

_Neville._

I remember now.

My son. My precious baby. The proof of my love for Frank Longbottom.

I remember now.

Frank is my husband. We met at Hogwarts, where we fell in love and pledged our loyalty to Dumbledore. It was the place we both called our true home. A home we'd sworn to protect so that one day our boy could go there too, a sanctuary where he could grow up splendidly and make us proud.

I remember now.

A small box. Frank gave me a box. There was a ruby ring inside. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I remember…

The boy presses something into my hand again. This time, it's not round. I can feel the edges cutting into my palm. Something squarish. He raises my hand to my eyes.

 _Chocolate_ , he mouths, and I watch a tear trickling down his downcast eyes before it disappears into the corner of his lips.

The crimson box wrapper expands and fills my vision.  
All I see is red. Everything around me is red.

I remember now!

A jet of scarlet light. A black shadow that looms over my terrified self. I can hear the cries of someone—the newborn in my arms. The silhouette becomes bigger, clearer…

I remember now.

_Bellatrix Lestrange._

* * *

_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_The shadow departs_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_The wind continues to howl_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_I am losing my senses_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_The glass breaks_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_The world collapses_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_Falling into darkness_  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock_  
_A child's cry piercing through the night_

* * *

I recall that it was a stormy night. I don't know how long I had been running. Screams of terror mixed with the roaring thunder ripple across the land as figures in black cloak marched down the streets. Jets of emerald light arced towards the fleeing backs of the townspeople. One by one, they tripped over as _Avada Kedavra_ curses sucked out the last breath of life from them, leaving them fallen on the ground, with only the horror of realization firmly carved onto their gaunt faces.

Dead.  
Broken.  
Gone.

I peered over my shoulder. That wretched woman was still following us, her wand waving wildly as streams of deadly spells danced around us, engulfing us in a whirlwind of colors.

Colors of death.

My eyes were blinded by the flashes of red and green, exploding with such intensity that the sleeping newborn in my arms was woken up from the shock, and he began to cry.

"Neville," I cooed, rocking the baby to and fro as gently as I could in my trembling arms. Frank was dueling with the dark witch, his counters colliding with her curses and exploding in mid-air. Neville stopped crying, seemingly awed at the display of colorful lights, not knowing the truth behind the blinding glamor.

These weren't the lights of hope. They were the lights to the family's downfall.  
To our grim end.

I held Neville closer to my chest.

"What do you want from us?" Even in the midst of the hair-raising crackles, I could still hear Frank's voice loud and clear.

"You know what I want," the dark witch drawled, giggling. Her high-pitched laughter sent chills down my spine. "That child—my Lord has been searching for him. Give that boy to me."

"No." Without another word, Frank swished his wand and sent another barrage of spells at the dark witch. "I will not allow you to touch my family, Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Bellatrix merely threw her head back and cackled. "We shall see about that!"

"Go," Frank urged. "Take him to my mother—to Augusta. Go."

I wanted to shake my head. No, I want to stay with you! But I knew that he was right. For the sake of our future, the future I was holding in my arms, I had to go.

His lips twitched a little into a soft smile. "I love you."

That was the last time I had ever seen him—seen him normal.  
Because the next time we met, we could never go back to the life we yearned for.

_Frank!_

* * *

_What's in the box?_  
_An engagement ring_  
_What's in the box?_  
_The kiss of oath_  
_What's in the box?_  
_A pinky promise_  
_What's in the box?_  
_The treasure of our days_

 _Treasure?_  
_What treasure?_

 _I stretch out a hand_  
_Reaching for the light_  
_Growing brighter, warmer_  
_Searing pain ripping through my heart_

_Ah…_

_Do you remember now?_

* * *

I am always looking forward to seeing Neville whenever there is someone coming to visit me. I am always excited to see what kind of new things he's going to put into my hands.

Candy.  
Chocolate.  
Gum.  
Sugar quill.

What is he going to surprise me with today?

I feel my heart skipping when I hear approaching footsteps, tapping to the rhythm I can easily tell who it belongs to without tilting my head to see Neville walking towards my bed. I want to smile, but all I can manage is to make my lips tremble. That's not good.

I hear Mother's—Augusta's—usual complaints about the hospital, about the world outside of the protective shell I've been staying at since that stormy night, about every single person who has walked past the ward. Blah, blah, blah. I can't seem to register her rants in my head, and all I'm wishing is for her to stop talking.

Neville is smiling again, but this time he seems genuinely happy. I can't help thinking that he really looks like an excited puppy to me. One that I'd love to cuddle with… to ease the heavy regret bubbling up inside me.

I'm a failure as a mother. How I wish I could've watched him grow up with my own eyes! How I wish I could've sent him off to Hogwarts as a family! 

I feel something hard being pushed into my hand, harder and colder than anything I have felt. Here it comes. I feel like my heart is pounding in my ears. _Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump._ Loud enough to drown out Augusta's rambles.

He raises my hand to my eyes. My heart stops.

"Surprise!" Neville says, and the box springs open, a little jester bouncing out of the red box. "Do you like it?"

 _No!_ I try to scream, then I can hear a high-pitched laughter mocking me. My throat feels so dry, almost like it's on fire. Streams of scarlet light are coming towards me, and agony is all that I can remember. I want to scream.

 _No!_ The little jester merely smiles at me, bouncing to the merry tune of 'Pop Goes the Weasel'. It's her—I can feel Bellatrix's soul torturing me from within, the dark witch's smirking face becoming bigger as the jester comes closer to my eyes.

_No!_

"Gram." Neville's chirpy voice sounds further and further away from me. "She likes it. Look, she's smiling! Just like the clown inside this box!"

_NO!_

* * *

_What's in the box?_  
_The Inner Eye has spoken_  
_What's in the box?_  
_The prophecy will be fulfilled_  
_What's in the box?_  
_The Dark Lord has come_  
_What's in the box?_  
_A fragment of thy soul_  
_What's in the box?_  
_Pandora's Curse_  
_What's in the box?_  
_Stay away from me_  
_What's in the box?_  
_Kill me now!_

 _Kill me now_  
_That face_  
_Kill me now_  
_That merry song_  
_Kill me now_  
_That smile_  
_Kill me now_  
_That box…_

_Tch, tch, tch_

_It's a jack-in-the-box!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration:  
> Headcanon - the patients in the Janus Thickey ward (where the Longbottoms are kept) are trapped in their own minds, with no ability to express that they understand what is going on around them. You hear stories about people who are in a persistent vegetative state remembering things that happened, so why not victims of Cruciatus torture?

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshots by Tsubasa Kurono.  
>  _Harry Potter_ series © J. K. Rowling.
> 
> (Originally posted on [FanFiction.Net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12795931))


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